







\ 

































ADDRESS, 

DELIVERED 


AT THE FIFTH ANNIVERSARY 


or THE 


MASSACHUSETTS PEACE 



December 25th, 18:20. 


Q 


BY HON. JO SI AH QUINCY. 








Published at the request of the Society. 




A- 



CAMBRIDGE : 


PRINTED BY HILLIARD AND METCALF. 

1821. 


,-Y 












7 




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The records of history embrace a period of six 
thousand years, abounding in war, in battle and slaugh¬ 
ter, with occasional and local intervals of short and 
feverish peace; in which, nations seem to stay rather 
than rest; stopping to pant, and to gain breath for 
new combats, rather than to form a business state of 
permanent tranquillity. In whatever condition, on 
whatever soil, under whatever sky, we contemplate 
man; be he savage, or be he civilized; ignorant, or 
enlightened ; groping amid the darkness of nature, or 
rejoicing in the lamp of revealed truth; be it island, 
or continent; sea, or shore ; wherever multitudes of 
men are, or have been, there will be found traces of 
human blood, shed in inhuman strife; there will be 
found death, scattered among the races of men, by 
the hand of—brother-man ! 

It is now more than eighteen hundred years, since 
u the author and finisher of our faith,” came, ushered 
in by an angelic host, proclaiming, peace on earth 
and good will among men ; since the Son of God 
descended from the right hand of the Father, for the 
great, and almost special purpose of enforcing the 
voice of reason, by the solemn sanction of the com- 



4 


mand of the Most High, that u men love one another.** 
Yet, strange to tell! wonderful! passing wonderful! 
scarce three centuries had elapsed from his advent, 
before the cross, the emblem of his peace and his love, 
became the standard and escutcheon of wars, as fierce 
and as bloody, as the crescent, the emblem of hate 
and of strife, ever waged. And, in these later days, 
notwithstanding science has, now, for almost four cen¬ 
turies, been pouring its mild and radiant stream of 
light into every sens*} and upon every land, yet, as it 
were but yesterday, sixty thousand men, dead on the 
field of Waterloo, terminated, probably only for a 
short, passing period, a war of twenty years* continu¬ 
ance, of which, at the least estimate, two millions of 
human beings were the victims! 

Such is the scene, which the mind seizes, as it casts 
a bird*s eye glance, along the horizon of human his¬ 
tory. 

In this actual condition of our nature, you, Mr. 
President, and gentlemen of the Massachusetts Peace 
Society, have united to try the strength of public 
associations against this natural tendency of our race 
to war; to attempt by combination and cooperative 
exertion of the mild, the virtuous, the religious, and 
humane, to calm this turbulent scene ; to limit the 
causes and evils, or, if heaven so pleases, annihilate 
altogether the influence, of that propensity to mutual 
destruction, so universal and scarcely less than innate, 
in our species. 

Under what auspices ? With what hopes ? From 
what circumstance in the social, moral, or intellectual 
condition of man do your endeavours derive encour- 


agement, or even countenance ? Is man less selfish, 
less craving, less ambitious, less vindictive now than 
formerly ? If all the old ingredients, which compose 
human nature, are still boiling in the crucible, what 
reason to expect that future experiments will mate¬ 
rially differ from the past ? If in every nation, under 
heaven, there be, at this day, ten thousand times more 
swords than ploughshares ; more spears, than prun¬ 
ing hooks ; if every where, war be taught as a science, 
and success in it be the theme of the sober applause 
of the few, and of the mad exultation of the many ; on 
what ground rests the opinion that any, much more 
that every, nation of the earth will abandon a system, 
which, from the beginning of the world has been, and 
to this hour is, among all nations, a chief object of 
pursuit, and the principal foundation of pride and of 
glory ? If all, or at least, if the greater part of na¬ 
tions do not concur, in abandoning this system, can 
any one nation abandon it safely ? 

These are questions, which the spirit of patriotism 
asks, half doubting, half consenting, as it ponders 
purposes such as yours, noble, generous, elevated, in 
their conception and principle, yet apparently repug¬ 
nant to the known propensities of our species, and 
contravening the established course of human conduct 
in every period of history. 

These are questions, which the spirit of war asks, 
half fearing, half sneering, as it stands, like its great 
progenitor, 66 with nostril wide, upturned, into the 
murky air, scenting its prey.” 

To some of these questions I shall attempt an an¬ 
swer. and to all of them allude, while on this occasion 


G 


I consider the causes of war among nations, and the 
circumstances in the condition of the civilized world, 
which afford better ground of hope, than ever before 
existed, of greatly limiting its ravages, and even of 
restraining them altogether ; and thence offer to you, 
gentlemen, some encouragements for perseverance, 
and to your fellow-citizens some reasons for cooperat¬ 
ing in the objects and labours of your society. 

(( In all experience and stories,” says the great 
Bacon,* Lord Verulam, u you shall find but three 
things that prepare and dispose an estate for war, 
the ambition of the governors, a state of soldiery 
professed, and the hard means to live among many 
subjects ; whereof the last is the most forcible and the 
most constant.” 

In reference to these causes of war, it may be as¬ 
serted, without any of that overweening zeal, which 
men call enthusiasm, and independent of the charac¬ 
ter, or the promises of our religion, that three facts 
exist in the nature of man and in the condition of 
society, which give rational ground for the opinion, 
that they will be gradually limited in their influence, 
and may be made ultimately to cease altogether. 

The first fact is, that man is a being capable of in¬ 
tellectual and moral improvement; and that this is 
true both of the individual and of the species. 

The second fact is, that the intellectual and moral 
improvement of our species has already advanced in 
this very direction and on this very subject; wars be¬ 
ing, in fact, far less bloody, and conducted on princi¬ 
ples, more mild than was the approved usage, in 
former periods of society. 

* Oil the true greatness of Britain. 


The third fact is, that the intellectual and moral in¬ 
fluences, which have arisen and are extending them¬ 
selves in the world, necessarily lead to a favourable 
change in all the enumerated causes, on which the ex¬ 
istence of war depends ;—repressing the ambition of 
rulers ;—diminishing the influence of the soldiery ; 
and ameliorating the condition of the multitude. 

As to the first fact, I shall not undertake to prove 
that man is a being capable of moral improvement; 
and that this is true both of the individual and the 
species. It is the voice of all history and all experi¬ 
ence. 

Nor will the second fact require much more elucida¬ 
tion. A very short recapitulation of the temper and 
principles, prevalent in war, at former times, will 
make its truth apparent. The earliest record of 
wars is that of the Israelites, about fifteen centuries 
before the Christian era. On taking a city,* they 
destroyed utterly men, women, and little ones. Some- 
timesf the people were made tributaries and slaves. 
At others, nothing that breathed w T as left alive. Not¬ 
withstanding this, it does not appear, that there was 
any thing peculiarly savage in the character of the Is¬ 
raelites. Although they acted under a sense of the di¬ 
vine command ; yet there can be no doubt that the 
principles, on which they conducted their wars, were 
perfectly in unison with the general rules of warfare, 
recognized by all nations, at that period of society. 

Homer, who, next to the sacred writers, is deemed 
to give authentic accounts of the manners of the earli¬ 
est times, witnesses that our species had made no ma- 

* Deut. ii. 33. t Ibid. xx. 10,13. 


8 


terial moral improvement in the principles, regulating 
the state of war, during the three or four centuries, 
which elapsed between the invasion of Canaan and 
the siege of Troy. Chieftains steal into each others 
camps, and massacre the sleeping, in cold blood. 
Captives are immolated to the manes of Patroclus. 
The dead body of Hector is dragged in triumph about 
the walls of his native city, in the sight of his be¬ 
reaved parents, consort, and countrymen. 

During the entire period of ancient history, the 
rights of war included the right of extermination, as 
inherent in the conqueror, and in the vanquished 
there inhered no rights ; neither of life, or liberty, or 
property. The form of ancient society made no dif¬ 
ference in the efficacy and universality of this princi¬ 
ple. Kings, emperors, consuls, were all occupied in 
one chief concern ; that of training and fleshing their 
followers to the sport of destroying the human species, 
under the name of enemies ; and for this purpose, en¬ 
larged on all sides, and to their utmost extent, the 
rights of conquest. Republics were, in this respect, 
no better than monarchies, and precisely for the same 
reason ; because in those, as in these, the many 
were needy and ignorant : and the few, cunning, am¬ 
bitious, and interested. 

It is necessary only to state these facts to convince 
every mind that war is conducted in a better temper 
and is of a milder aspect, in present, than in former 
times. It is, however, important, and will be illustra¬ 
tive of the general scope of my argument, to remark, 
that the amelioration, effected in the conduct of wars, 
has, chiefly, resulted from the improved intellectual 


9 


and moral condition of mankind, rather than directly 
from the military class itself. Almost all the amelio¬ 
ration in the art of war may be traced to the elfect of 
domestic influence upon the warrior ; his regard for 
character at home ; and the fear of incurring con¬ 
tempt and shame among his own countrymen. As far 
as we can form any opinion of the conduct of Euro¬ 
pean armies, at the present day, when in the field, 
they are nearly, if not quite, as wanton and licentious, 
as formerly. Love of plunder is as strong in the 
breasts of modern, as it was in those of ancient war¬ 
riors. They have no more shame now, than in for¬ 
mer times, at growing rich on the spoils of the con¬ 
quered ; but think it, as much as ever, a great and 
glorious matter, if going to war beggars, they return 
from it nabobs. The chief restraint, which has been 
laid, in modern days, on the spirit of ancient warfare, 
may be traced to the improved moral sense, and the 
direct moral influence of men in civil life. This mor¬ 
al sense is not as yet sufficiently elevated to he offend 
edatthe bringing home, by military men, of gold, sil¬ 
ver, and merchandise, plundered from enemies. And 
accordingly, the military,#at the present day, grasp 
at these with avidity. 

But the moral sense of the period does reluct at en¬ 
tailing, in perpetuity, the miseries of conquest upon 
the persons of the vanquished. In consequence, mili¬ 
tary men bring home no more captive females as mis¬ 
tresses and servants ; nor do they reduce vanquished 
males to the condition of slaves for life;—except, in¬ 
deed, they happen to be black ; a case, for which the 

2 


10 


moral sense of the age has not, as yet, every where, 
provided. 

An exception, indeed, must be made to these re¬ 
marks, in relation to that strange, mysterious, semi- 
savage code, called u the law of honor.” However 
criminal, in a moral, and however ridiculous, in an in¬ 
tellectual point of view, this code of unwritten law is, 
yet it has had, unquestionably, a favourable effect, 
in softening and elevating the military character. 
The necessity of killing, or being killed, which this 
law prescribes, at the call of any one, who may deem 
himself injured, or insulted, has had a direct tenden¬ 
cy to curb the insolence and overbearing humour, 
natural to men, exposed to the temptations insepara¬ 
ble from a life merely military. It is a law of re¬ 
straint calculated to influence those, who, recognizing 
no law contravening the will of their officer, are only 
to be kept in awe by the apprehension of personal dan¬ 
ger. The law of honor, therefore, by putting every 
military man, at the mercy of every one, who chooses 
to call him to combat, results in this, that those, who 
are, professionally, without law, become a law to 
themselves, through fear of the consequences. The 
operation of the law has been conformable to the an¬ 
ticipations of the iron-clad legislators, who promul¬ 
gated it ; the perpetual appeal to personal danger, 
which this law establishes, being found, in most cases, 
to operate, like a charm, on these fighting spirits. 
For, although fear is a term, not admitted into the 
military code, yet it is found by experience, that, in 
all dangers, except those, which are included in their 
contract with their commander, and in those, to 


11 


which habit has made them familiar, this class tremble 
quite as much as other philosophers. 

Another effect of this code has been that, under its 
influence, fighting and killing one another, is, no lon¬ 
ger, even in the field, a matter of blood, but a matter of 
business. Military men are cool, when they contract to 
do the work of slaughter ; and as cool as nature and 
nerve will permit, when they are performing the task. 
Under this law ancient friends, when engaged in oppo¬ 
site service, meet and endeavour to kill one another, 
without any impeachment of mutual love and friendship. 
If both survive, their harmony is unbroken, by this 
mutual attempt on each other’s life. If either fall, 
the survivor, perhaps, builds a monument to his mem¬ 
ory, and mourns for him as a brother. Military men, 
and those, who occasionally adopt their practice, in civil 
life, no longer slay one another, in a passion. And, 
thdugh their business is, as much as ever, to stab, to 
shoot, and to kill, yet this is not done with savage looks 
and barbarous rites, but with a fashionable air, and in 
a gentlemanly way. They meet ; are measured and 
civil in their deportment ; they kill ; or are killed. 
When the life of either is gone, the affair is over. 
They do not, as formerly, deny honourable burial. 
They cut off no hands, or ears. They take no scalps. 
They thrust no thongs through the feet of the dead, 
and drag the body in triumph at their chariot wheels. 

These advances, although not great, are yet some¬ 
what. As far as they extend, they indicate a degree 
of moral improvement; some mitigation of the calam¬ 
ities of war ; some diminution of its causes and its 
inducements, proceeding from the military class itself. 


12 


But the great and only sure ground of hope of ameli¬ 
oration^ in relation to these objects, rests on the im¬ 
proving moral and intellectual condition of mankind. 

The third and most material fact to be illustrated 
was, that such intellectual and moral influences are ex¬ 
tending themselves, in society ; and necessarily lead 
to a change, in all the enumerated causes, on which 
the existence of war depends. 

But first, is it true, that moral and intellectual in¬ 
fluences are extending themselves, in society ? Is it 
true that we enjoy a brighter intellectual day $ and a 
purer moral sky, than anterior periods of the world ? 
Can any ask ; dare any ask ; whose hands hold the 
page of history, and whose minds are capable of re¬ 
ceiving impressions from surrounding objects ? 

At what previous time did the world exhibit the 

scenes, we, at this day,* witness ? When did science 

• 

ever, until this period, present itself to the entire 
mass of the community, as their inheritance and right? 
When, for the purpose of arresting the general ear, 
and promoting universal comprehension of its pre¬ 
cepts, did it before adapt its instructions, to every 
form of intellect ; to every stage of human life ; to 
every class of social being ? Science, indeed, existed, 
in former times. But, where? In the grove of Aca- 
demus with Plato ; dreaming concerning the soul of 
.the universe. In convents, among cowled monks and 
fasting friars. In colleges, accessible, only, to the 
favoured few. Iron-clasped, and iron-bound, in black 
letter folios. Locked in dead languages. Repelling 
all, but the initiated. 


13 


Where exists science now ? No more immured in 
cells ; no more strutting, with pedant air and forbid¬ 
ding looks, in secluded halls ; it adapts itself to real 
life ; to use ; and to man. It prattles with the babe. 
It takes the infant on its knee. It joins the play of 
youth. It rejoices with the young man, in his 
strength. It is the companion of manhood ; the solace 
and the joy of the hoary head. It is to be seen, in the 
held,leaning on the plough; at the work-bench,direct¬ 
ing the plane and the saw ; in the high places of the city, 
converting, by their wealth and their liberality, mer¬ 
chants, into princes; in the retirement of domestic life, 
refining by the aid of taste, and knowledge, the virtues 
of a sex, in whose purity and elevation man attains, 
at once, the noblest earthly reward, and the highest 
earthly standard of his moral and intellectual nature. 
Science no more works as formerly in abstruse forms, 
and with abstract essences ; but, in a business way ; 
seeking what is true and what is useful ; purifying, 
elevating, and thus producing, by degrees, slow in¬ 
deed, but sure, a level of intellect in the whole mass ; 
suited to the state, and illustrative of the relations and 
duties, of all the parts, of which it is composed. 

If this be true of the intellectual state of the period, 
what shall we say of the moral ? Can knowledge 
advance and virtue be retrograde ? Grant that this 
is sometimes the case in individuals ; are these in¬ 
stances examples of the general rule ; or exceptions 
to it? Are such unions of corrupt hearts, with ele¬ 
vated intellects, not rather monsters, than natural 
forms of being ? If knowledge be a right comprehen¬ 
sion of nature and of the actual relations of things 


14 


0 an this exist without establishing the conviction of 
the eternal coincidence of happiness with duty ? Is 
it not as plainly the voice of nature, as it is of scrip¬ 
ture, that “ the paths of wisdom are pleasantness and 
peace ?” If a wise and good Deity has formed that 
structure of things, which we call nature, can acquaint¬ 
ance with that structure result in any thing else than 
a perception of those attributes, which constitute his 
character, and of the eternal connexion, which subsists 
among them ; and of consequence, which subsists 
among like attributes, belonging to man, feeble, in¬ 
deed, but yet, in kind, emanations and prototypes of 
those of the Deity ? 

These, however, are general reasonings. Let us 
advert to facts. 

There was a period in which men worshipped 
stocks and stones ; and birds and beasts ; the sun, 
moon, stars and clouds; when they sacrificed human 
victims to their gods ; when trees, and the canopy of 
heaven were their coverings and they contended with 
wild beasts for food, shelter and existence. 

“ In Greece, in civilized, intellectual Greece, three 
fourths were slaves, holding even life at the capri¬ 
cious will of their masters ; those proud masters them¬ 
selves the slaves of ignorance and dupes of priest¬ 
craft—fluctuating between external war and internal 
commotion ; anarchy and tyranny. 

u Rome, in its best days, polluted by the abomina¬ 
tion of domestic slavery, waging eternal war with the 
world, offering only the alternative of subjection, or 
extermination ; rude in arts; with no philosophy, and 
a religion, whose gods and ceremonies make one blush, 
or shudder. 


15 


“ In more recent and modern times, what scenes of 
confusion, persecution and distraction ! Kings tyran¬ 
nizing over people ! Priests over kings! Men the 
property of every petty chieftain I Justice perverted. 
Christianity corrupted.”* 

Detail is needless. It is enough to state the facts. 
We all feel the moral advancement of the present 
period of society. 

How have the useful and elegant arts been ad¬ 
vanced ! With what skill nature is made subservi¬ 
ent to the wants, conveniences, and refinement of life * 
It is unnecessary to recapitulate. We all realize the 
change ; and that it is great and wonderful ; not sud¬ 
den, but progressive. 

If such be the fact, why should not the future cor¬ 
respond with the past ? Why should not the species 
continue to advance ? Is nature exhausted ? Or is 
there any evidence of failure, in the faculties, or of 
diminution in the stimulus of man ? On the contrary, 
what half century can pretend to vie, with the last, in 
improvement in the arts, advancement in the sciences, 
in zeal and success of intellectual labours ? Time 
would fail before all could be enumerated. Let one 
instance suffice, and that in our own country. 

Scarcely ten years have elapsed, since the projects 
of Fulton were the common sneer of multitudes both 
in Europe and America; and those not composed of 
the most ignorant classes of society. He, indeed, has 
already joined the great congregation of departed 

* See Fox’s lectures on the corruption, revival ami future in¬ 
fluence of genuine Christianity, p. 239. 


men of genius ; but where are his inventions ? Pene¬ 
trating the interior of this new world ; smoking along 
our rivers ; climbing, without canvass, the mountains 
of the deep; carrying commerce and comforts, un¬ 
known and unanticipated, to inland regions, and al¬ 
ready establishing a new era in navigation, and new 
facilities for human intercourse; incalculable in bene¬ 
fits and in consequences. 

So far from having any reason to believe that the 
progress of human improvement is stationary, or that 
it is henceforth to be retrograde, there is just reason 
to believe, that intellectual and moral improvement 
and social comforts are to advance, with a rapidity 
and universality, never before witnessed. 

There are two coexisting facts, peculiar and char¬ 
acteristic of the present age ; which encourage this 
belief. The first is that universal diffusion of know¬ 
ledge, to which allusion has been already made. The 
second is the facility, with which this diffusion is 
effected. 

All the improvements of man’s social, moral and 
intellectual condition, in former ages, occurred, under 
the existence of a state of things, in which intellect, 
morals and comforts were, almost exclusively, the mo¬ 
nopoly of the few. In every country, the mass of 
society were oppressed by thrones, and dominations, 
and military despotism. At the present day, the 
many are every where rising, gradually, into influ¬ 
ence and power. Moral and intellectual cultivation 
are no more restricted to a few favoured individuals ; 
but proffered to the whole species. The light and 
warmth of science are permitted to penetrate the 


17 


lowest strata of society ; reaching depths never before 
explored ; and there expanding seeds of improvement, 
not only never before developed, but whose existence 
was absolutely unknown. 

The press, also, by its magic power, almost annihi¬ 
lates time and space, in its rapid spread, pervading 
every class and every climate; making, more and 
more, mutual acquaintance, commercial interchange, 
and intellectual intercourse, the strong ties of peace 
among nations ; approximating the world to a state of 
general society ; in which the bond of man to man is 
recognized ; and humanity is becoming, every day, 
less and less the dupe of intrigue and artifice. States 
touch each other, no longer, only at those corrupt and 
irritable points called king, noble, or chieftain. Mind 
embraces mind, in spite of intervening seas, or wil¬ 
dernesses. An allegiance to intellect, to morals, and 
religion, begins to be acknowledged among multi¬ 
tudes, in every land, which is undermining that false 
and artificial allegiance, by which mankind have, at 
former periods, in the train and at the beck of states¬ 
men and warriors, been dashed against each other; 
contrary to the law of their God and their nature. 

If these views are true, do they not justify the 
opinion, that the progress of moral and intellectual 
improvement will continue ; that it is advancing ? 

If advancing ; in what course; and in what direc¬ 
tion ? Can it be doubted that the first and necessary 
effect of this progress of society must be the ameliora¬ 
tion of the condition of the multitude ; in other words, 
removing that “ hard means to live,” which is declar¬ 
es 

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V. \ ' \ 


ed by Lord Bacon to be “ the most forcible and the most 
constant of all the causes, which prepare and dispose 
an estate for war?” That this must be the first and 
necessary effect of a high moral and intellectual state, 
generally produced, is self-evident. 

Nor is the tendency of such a condition of know'- 
lege and virtue to repress 66 the ambition of rulers,” 
less palpable. It is impossible but that, in proportion 
as a people become wise and virtuous, they must 
incline to be ruled by men of this character. Indeed 
rulers, themselves, must necessarily partake of the 
renovated condition of mankind. In elective govern¬ 
ments, none but the good and wise would be elected ; 
or if elected, continue in influence, but a short time. 
In hereditary governments, monarchs and nobles would 
be influenced by the virtues of their subjects ; or at 
least be compelled to pay to them the homage of hy¬ 
pocrisy. Thus the second enumerated cause of war 
“ the ambition of rulers,” must, by necessary conse¬ 
quence, find its antidote, in the moral and intellectual 
condition of the people. 

As to the third cause of war, u a state of soldiery 
professed,” in other words, the influence of the mili¬ 
tary class, a state of society, such as I have described, 
and as we have reason to anticipate, will not so much 
diminish its influence, as annihilate the whole class, 
by rendering it useless ; w^hen there is no employment 
and no hope of it, for the military class, it can have 
no continuance. 

A people highly moral and highly intellectual, would 
not endure the existence of such a distinct class. They 
would realize that the principle of military life result 


19 


fcd, in making moral agents, machines ; free citizens, 
slaves ; that a soldier, as such, can have no will but 
his officer’s ; knows no law but his commands ; with 
him, conscience has no force; heaven no authority ; 
conduct but one rule, implicit, military obedience. 
It requires but a very small elevation of the moral 
and intellectual standard, at present, existing among 
mankind, to make them realize the utter incompati¬ 
bility of the existence of such a class, with long con¬ 
tinued peace, or with that higher moral and intellec¬ 
tual state, to which both nature and duty teach man 
to aspire. 

If it be asked, how a nation, destitute of a military 
class, can be safe from foreign violence and invasion, 
it may be answered, first, that the existence of such a 
class is ever a main inducement both to the one and 
the other. For either your military force is weaker 
than your neighbour’s, in which case he is insolent; 
or it is stronger, in which case, you are so; or it is 
equal, in which case the very uncertainty begets, in 
both, a spirit of rivalry, of jealousy and of war. Sec¬ 
ond, that all experience has shown that a well ap¬ 
pointed militia, defending their own altars and homes, 
were competent to every purpose of repelling foreign 
violence, and invasion. Third, that a society, which 
should engage in no intrigues, covet no foreign pos¬ 
sessions, exemplify in all its conduct a spirit of jus¬ 
tice, moderation, and regard for the rights of others, 
would assume a position the most favourable to pre¬ 
dispose its neighbours to adopt, toward it, a kind and 
peaceable demeanor. Should it fail, its conduct would 
be effectual to concentrate around it the affections of 


20 


its own citizens ; and thence produce "unanimity and 
vigor in the use of all the means, to which it might be 
necessitated to resort, for the purpose of repelling ac¬ 
tual invasion. 

The amelioration of the moral and intellectual con¬ 
dition of man, is not, however, at this day peculiar to 
any one nation. In a greater, or less degree, it is 
incident to all. By commerce, by the press, by a 
very general acquaintance with each other’s lan¬ 
guage, by identity of pursuits, similarity in the ob¬ 
jects of religious faith, and by coincidence of inter¬ 
ests, the various nations, composing the civilized 
quarters of the globe, have mutually elevated and 
instructed, and are, every day, mutually, elevating 
and instructing one another. Thought and invention, 
in any one nation, exist for the common benefit of all. 
Every where the same scenes are passing. People 
growing more enlightened ; more resolved ; more pow¬ 
erful. Monarchs more wise; more timid ; less arbi¬ 
trary. In all nations, the multitude are grasping after 
a representative control, in the management of state 
affairs ; and sooner, or later, they will be successful. 
Kings begin, already, to realize the necessity. They 
must feel it more. They cannot choose but to yield 
to it. The light is too powerful, it cannot be shut out. 
Knowledge too penetrating, it cannot be excluded. 
Let emperors and kings league; let the North pour 
forth its military hordes. These are only the obsta¬ 
cles appointed by Providence to ensure greater cer¬ 
tainty to that universal amelioration of the human 
condition, to which man is destined, by rendering it 
slowly and gradually progressive. The enormities of 


21 


the French revolution evidence the guilt and crime, in 
which a nation may be involved, by having light and 
freedom put into its possession, before it is prepared 
to receive them. Monarchs and their hosts are but 
instruments in the hands of Providence; destined to 
check the rapidity, not forever to terminate the intel¬ 
lectual progress, of our species. To be effectual and 
permanent, this advance must be slow. Fetters must 
be broken off, by degrees, from nations, which have 
been, for ages, in chains. Light must be poured 
gradually upon the eye, which is first introduced to 
the day. This is the law of our nature. This is the 
course of Providence. 

It is impossible not to perceive, that the extension 
of these influences, among the mass of mankind, must, 
even in Europe, tend to diminish the recurrence of 
war, not only from the reasons and consequences, 
already urged, but also from the actual state of Euro¬ 
pean soldiery ; the necessary result of their education, 
their habits and their relations to society. In our 
own country, accustomed as we are to associate, 
whatever there is of the military character in it, with 
the services and interests of our revolution, or to see 
it, little separated from the virtues and innocence of 
civil life, we can scarcely form an idea of the degrad¬ 
ed moral and intellectual condition of the mere sol¬ 
diery of Europe. Their own statesmen and histori¬ 
ans seem at a loss to express their abhorrence of the 
whole class. 66 War makes thieves,” says Machia- 
vel, who was himself no enemy to the profession, 
(( and peace hangs them.* For those, who know not 

* Art of War. B. I. 


22 


how to get their bread, in any other way, when they 
are disbanded and out of employ, disdaining poverty 
and obscurity, are forced to have recourse to such 
ways of supporting themselves, as generally brings 
them to the gallows.” 

The experience of our own day is not very differ¬ 
ent. From the revival of the ancient system of buc¬ 
caneering in the West India seas, and the crimes, com¬ 
mitted in every part of Europe and America, since 
the cessation of hostilities, it is apparent that those, 
who can no longer rob and murder, under the sanction 
of civil society, have, at length, set up for themselves ; 
and are carrying on their old trade, at their own 
risque and under their own authority. What better 
can be expected from men, sold like slaves, from one 
despot to another; contracting to do the work of 
murder, for hire ; careless, for whom ; indifferent, 
against whom ; or for what; expecting pay and plun¬ 
der ; these assured, asking no further questions. 

It is impossible, without recurrence to feelings and 
sentiments of a higher and purer nature, than those, 
induced by common life, to do justice to the deep 
moral depravity and the cruel bloodstained scenes of 
ordinary warfare. Alas ! How must they be viewed, 
by higher intelligence and virtues ! 

Science and revelation concur, in teaching that this 
ball of earth, which man inhabits, is not the only 
world ; that millions of globes, like ours, roll in the 
immensity of space. The sun, the moon, 66 those 
seven nightly wandering fires,” those twinkling stars 
are worlds. There, doubtless, dwell other moral, and 
intellectual natures ; angelic spirits ; passing what man 


23 


calls time, in one untired pursuit of truth and duty; 
still seeking ; still exploring, ever satisfying, never 
satiating, the ethereal, moral, intellectual thirst ; 
whose delightful ta*k it is,—as it should be ours,—to 
learn the will of the Eternal Father ; to seek the 
good, which to that end—for them and us to seek,—he 
hides ; and finding, to admire, adore, and praise,— 
66 him first, him last, him midst and without end.” 

Imagine one of these celestial spirits, bent on this, 
great purpose, descending upon our globe; and 
led, by chance, to an European plain, at the point 
of some great battle ; on which, to human eye, 
reckless and blind to overruling Heaven, the fate of 
states and empires is suspended. 

On a sudden, the field of combat opens on his as¬ 
tonished vision. It is a field, which men call, 66 glori¬ 
ous.” A hundred thousand warriors stand in oppos¬ 
ed ranks. Light gleams on their burnished steels. 
Their plumes and banners wave. Hill echoes to hill 
the noise of moving rank and squadron ; the neigh 
and tramp of steeds ; the trumpet, drum, and bugle 
call. 

There is a momentary pause ;—a silence, like that, 
which precedes the fall of the thunderbolt ; like that 
awful stillness, which is precursor to the desolating 
rage of the whirlwind. In an instant, flash succeed¬ 
ing flash pours columns of smoke along the plain. 
The iron tempest sweeps; heaping man, horse, and 
car, in undistinguished ruin. In shouts of rushing 
hosts,—in shock of breasting steeds,—in peals of mus- 
quetry,—in artillery’s roar,—in sabres’ clash,—in thick 
and gathering clouds of smoke and dust, all human 


24 


eye, and ear, and sense are lost. Man sees not, but 
the sign of onset. Man hears not, but the cry of—- 
u onward.” 

Not so, the celestial stranger. His spiritual eye, 
unobscured by artificial night, his spiritual ear, unaf¬ 
fected by mechanic noise, witness the real scene, 
naked, in all its cruel horrors. 

He sees—lopped and bleeding limbs scattered,— 
gashed, dismembered trunks, outspread, gore-clotted, 
lifeless ;—brains bursting from crushed sculls ; blood 
gushing from sabred necks; severed heads, whose 
mouths mutter rage, amidst the palsying of the last 
agony. 

He hears—the mingled cry of anguish and despair, 
issuing from a thousand bosoms, in which a thousand 
bayonets turn,—the convulsive scream of anguish from 
heaps of mangled, half-expiring victims, over whom 
the heavy artillery-wheels lumber and crush into one 
mass, bone, and muscle, and sinew ;—while the fetlock 
of the war-horse drips with blood, starting from the 
last palpitation of the burst heart, on which his hoof 
pivots. 

66 This is not earth,”—would not such a celestial 
stranger exclaim ;— 6i This is not earth ”— 66 this is 
hell! This is not man! but demon, tormenting demon.” 

Thus exclaiming, would not he speed away to the 
skies ? His immortal nature unable to endure ttie 
folly, the crime, and the madness of man. 

If in this description, there be nothing forced, and 
nothing exaggerated ; if all great battles exhibit 
scenes, like these, only multiplied ten thousand times, 
in every awful form, in every cruel feature, in every 




25 


heart rending circumstance ; will society, in a high 
state of moral and intellectual improvement endure 
their recurrence ? As light penetrates the mass, and 
power with light, and purity with power, will men, in 
any country, consent to entrust their peace and rights, 
to a soldiery like that of Europe, described as u a 
needy, sensual, vicious cast, reckless of God and man, 
and mindful only of their officer ?” 

Even in Europe, is not a brighter and purer day 
breaking ? Even there, though overwhelmed by the 
weight of mightiest monarchies, public opinion heaves 
and shakes the mountain mass, by which the moral 
and intellectual developement of human nature is op¬ 
pressed. Already the middling classes of society 
have burst the ancient feuded chains, and priest-craft 
manacles, and vindicated for themselves, a glorious 
day ; under whose light, knowledge and virtue are 
expanding, and checking the crimes of courts, as well 
as of the crowd, and pointing with the finger of au¬ 
thoritative scorn at the vices of the high and the no¬ 
ble, not less than at those of the low and ignoble. 

66 Revolutions go not backward.” Neither docs the 
moral and intellectual progress of the multitude. 
Light is shining where once there was darkness ; and 
is penetrating and purifying the once corrupt and 
enslaved portions of our species. It may, occasional¬ 
ly, and for a season, be obscured ; or seem retrograde. 
But light, moral and intellectual, shall continue to as¬ 
cend to the zenith until that, which is now dark, shall 
be in day ; and much of that earthly crust, which still 

4 


26 


adheres to man, shall fall and crumble away, as his 
nature becomes elevated. 

With this progress, it needs no aid from prophecy, 
none from revelation, to fore tel that war, the greatest, 
yet remaining curse and shame of our race, shall retire 
to the same cave, where “Pope and Pagan” have retir¬ 
ed, to be remembered only, with a mingled sentiment 
of disgust and wonder, like the war-feast of the sav¬ 
age ; like the perpetual slavery of captives; like 
the pledge of revenge, in the scull-bowl of Odin ; like 
the murder of helots in Greece, and of gladiators, in 
Rome ; like the witch-burnings, the Smithfield-iires, 
and St. Bartholomew-massacres, of modern times. At 
every new moral and intellectual height attained, man 
looks back on the darkness of the region below, with 
pity and astonishment, mingled with contempt. And 
future times shall look back upon the moral and intellec¬ 
tual state of man, at the present day, proud and boast¬ 
ful as we are, with the same sentiments and feelings, 
with which, in manhood, we look back on the petu¬ 
lance of infancy ; and the weak and toyish wants and 
passions, which disturbed the tranquillity of our child¬ 
ish years. 

If these anticipations have any colour of hope, amid 
the antique customs and thronged population of Eu¬ 
rope, how just and how bright are they, in this fa¬ 
voured country, where God and nature combine to in¬ 
vite man to lay the foundations of a new and happy 
era, for our race ! How does the moral, intellectual, 
and local condition of the United States combine to 
repress all the three causes, “ which prepare and dis¬ 
pose states for war.” First, by elevating and improv- 


27 


mg the condition of the people. Second, hy restrain¬ 
ing the ambition of rulers. Third, by rendering it 
easy, if we will, to expunge the entire class of u sol¬ 
diers profest.” 

Never did a nation commence its existence, under 
auspices, so favourable, as did the United States. 
Other nations advanced slowly from the savage state, 
or from a state, worse than savage, that of professed 
robbers and plunderers. On the contrary, the United 
States, educated, as colonies, under systems of liberty, 
as pure, as elevated, and as practical, as the wit of 
man had ever devised, became, as it were, a nation, 
in a day ; without any of those wild excesses and 
bloody convulsions, which attended the foundation of 
other nations. Our citizens were, in fact, republi¬ 
cans, when they were, as yet, colonists. On assum¬ 
ing independence, they did little else than transfer 
the attributes of the monarch to the people ; and pro¬ 
vide the organs, by which the will of the new sove¬ 
reign should be expressed. Forms were changed. 
But their principles, their habits, their manners, un¬ 
derwent no alteration. It is impossible not to per¬ 
ceive how admirably adapted our state of society is, 
for the cultivation of simplicity, truth to nature, to 
reason and virtue, in all our purposes, and in all our 
institutions. 

Even our militia system, although regarded by 
many zealous advocates for peace, as stimulating war, 
is, in fact, the most powerful means of preventing its 
recurrence. In the present condition of the w r orld, a 
well appointed militia is unavoidable, in every state, 
which would escape the necessity of “ a state of sol- 


28 


diery professed.” The right to defend its own terri¬ 
tories against actual invasion is the last, which society 
can permit to be questioned. In such a state of moral 
sentiment, as at present exists among the nations of 
the earth, the possibility that a nation may be reduc¬ 
ed to the necessity of resisting actual invasion is a 
reason, every where, for warlike preparations. So 
long as this possibility continues, those advocates for 
peace, weaken their own ground and narrow their 
own influence, who put preparations by the militia on 
a level, in point of moral offence, with preparations 
by standing armies. In its true character, a militia is a 
military force, effectual to repel invasion, and effectu¬ 
al for nothing else. Those, therefore, best consult 
the interests of the pacific system, who admit the ne¬ 
cessity, in the present period of society, of prepara¬ 
tions by a militia ; thereby depriving the advocates of 
a standing army of all pretence, grounded on the ap¬ 
prehension of invasion ; and yet, at the same time, 
adopting a mode of defence, safe for the liberties of 
the people, and inapplicable to every state of hostili¬ 
ties ; except one ; and that, beyond all doubt, the 
most unquestionable, in point of principle. The 
greatest advance to a condition of universal peace 
would be that, in which there were no 66 state of sol¬ 
diers profest no arms, but in the hands of the peo¬ 
ple ; and the authority to use them limited to the fact 
of actual invasion. 

¥ 

The local relations of the United States are, in the 
most extraordinary manner, adapted to limit and de¬ 
crease the influence of all the causes of war. Our ru¬ 
lers are responsible to the people at short periods. The 


29 


extent of our territory is such, that ages must elapse, 
before our numbers can exceed the productive pow¬ 
ers of our soil to support. Of consequence, ex¬ 
treme poverty, which Lord Bacon calls “ the hard 
means to live,” will scarce, for ages, be the condition 
of any important portion of our citizens. With mili¬ 
tia power, enough to make all fear o * foreign invasion 
idle, we have territory enough to render all desire in 
us of foreign acquisition, little less than frantic. What 
then have we ttV- dc^itti a standing army ? Of all na¬ 
tions, under heaven, the United States have the least 
apology for possessing even a shadow of such an in¬ 
stitution. If any nation was, or ever can be safe, 
with a militia alone, that nation is the United States. 

Such are the answers to the questions, relative to 
the auspices, which attended the foundation of your 
society, and the hopes, which accompany its progress. 
They are neither few, in number; nor doubtful, in 
type. They are as certain as the capacT L yf man 
for moral improvement; and as positive as lie develop-., 
ment of that capacity is unquestionab 1 * -Societies, 
like yours, are at once evidences o^the fact, and 
instruments to ensure the fulfilment o^ ne h°P e - They 
are the repositories of that mora 7 an d intellectual 
armory, which is destined to be th means tinder Pro- 
vidence, of breaking in pieces sword, the spear 
and the battle-ax^, and every ob er implement ol war, 
in like manner as the rays ^ light and v of truth, 
concentrated by the magic mi ror Cervantes, melt¬ 
ed into air and dissipated ^ ie dwarfs, the knights, 
the giants, the enchanters tn d battlements of ancient 
chivalry. 


30 


These means are as plain, as their tendency is no¬ 
ble. Whatever there is in the circumstances of the 
time, tending to make war, less frequent, less proba¬ 
ble, or more odious, on that seize ; that analyze, dis¬ 
play and ^enforce. Bring the principles, connected 
with those circumstances, home to men’s business and 
bosoms; not by discoursing on the beauty of moral 
truth and on the bliss of a tranquil state, but by exhib¬ 
iting those facts and relations, existing among men 
and between societies, which, if cherished and multi¬ 
plied and strengthened, give rational grounds of belief 
that brighter and calmer days may be made to dawn 
and be perpetuated on our tempest-torn race. 

The reasons of this belief, take with you into life. 
Carry them into the haunts of men, press them upon 
all, who guide and influence society. Make, if possi¬ 
ble, a recognition of them a condition of political 
power. Above all, satisfy the people of their true 
interests. Show your fellow-citizens of this, and the 
men of every other country, that war is a game ever 
played for thAaggrandizement of the few, and for the 
impoverishment of the many ; that those, who play it 
voluntarily, do A always for selfish, never for public 
purposes ; that Aar-establishments are every where 
scions of despotisms that when engrafted on repub¬ 
lics, they always btVin by determining the best sap 
to their own branch; ynd never fail to finish by with¬ 
ering every branch, e^pt their own. 

Be not then discouraged, gentlemen. True it is, 
yesterday’s sad event hasVilled all our hearts, with a 
deep sorrow. He, who at your last anniversary, on 
this occasion, in this place, Ad at this hour, was ad- 


31 


dressing you, now lies low, in death. Heaven has 
willed ; and Gallison* is gone. His warm heart is 
cold. His mortal light is quenched. His pure ex¬ 
ample lives only in remembrance. He is gone;— 

* John G allison, Esq. who died on the 24th December, 1820. — On the 
26th instunt, the Bar of the c- unty of Suffolk, at a meeting holden, to con¬ 
sider what measures had become proper in consequence of his decease, 
unanimously passed the following votes— 

Voted, Tha the members of the Bar will attend the funeral of Mr. Gal- 
lison :—and that crape be worn by the members, until the end of the pre¬ 
sent term of the Supreme Court. 

Voted, That the following notice of Mr. Gallison’s decease be recorded 
in the books of the Bar. 

‘ The members of our association have been assembled by their common 
sorrow and sympathy occasioned by the bereavement which the profession 
and the community have sustained in the decease of Mr GalLson. 

“Vs a fraternity, our strength is impaired ;—as members of society, w 
are sorrowers in common with ail who respect learning, integrity, fideb' 
piety, and whatsoever tends to adorn ana elevate ’he fellowship of me a 
“ The emanations from Mr. Gallison’s mind and heart were so fa,’ 0J 
to us and of such lady experience, that like some of the most cjq ev ' 
though most precious of blessings, it is only by unexpected and i- 
ble loss that their just value is perceived. of re- 

“ Professional learning, in Mr. Gallison, was scarcely a sy a t ] le S£ 

mark. We all felt that he must be learned, for we all kniertook •_. 

ve' iy exacted of himself to be competent to whatsoever hew* ‘ ’• 

diligence and fidelity were his peculiar qualities ; his moral se/fe made 
them so ;—he could never inspire a confidence that he could not fully satisfy, 
“ It is not only a learned, a diligent, a faithful minister of justice, that 
is lost to us ; the public have lost one of the purest and most indefatiga¬ 
ble and most capable of all men who have attempted to illustrate the util¬ 
ity of professional learning ; to prove the beauty and fitness of morality, 
and to guve new attraction to the truth of revealed sanctions. It was 
among the favorite pursuits and objects of our deceased brother, to trace 
the connexion and dependence which exist between learning, religion, mo¬ 
rality, civil freedom, and human happiness. 

“ I’he very virtues winch we admired are the cause of our present regret. 
Ilis labours were incessant—and through these his course is terminated at 
an early age. However brief, his life has been long enough to furnish a 
valuable commentary on our professional, moral, and political institutions. 
He lived long enough to prove that an unaided individual, of such quali¬ 
ties as those which we are called on to regret, will find a just place in the 
community. He has proved that an unassuming citizen of chastened tem¬ 
per, amiable deportment, indefatigable industry, incorruptible integrity, 
and sincere atta hment to the public welfare, will always be felt, known, 
and honoured He has proved that a m <n who was never known among 
his contemporaries, associates, and rivals to have refused to others what 
belonged to them ; or to have assumed to himself what was not his own, 
cannot go down to the tomb unattend< d by general and heart*felt regret.” 

A copy of the records. 

W. J. SrooNEn, Sec’y. 


32 


the pious, the excellent; the learned man*; an orna¬ 
ment of our bar ; a model for our youth ; the delight 
of the aged ; one of the choice hopes of our state ; 

* i 

whom all honoured, for his worth was at once solid 
and unobtrusive ; whom none envied, for his acquisi¬ 
tions, though great and rare,.were but the fair harvest 
of his talents, of his labour and his virtues. 

Let not this Providence discourage. Your brother 
has only taken early possession of the promise to the 
u pure in heart.” He now 66 beholds his God. ?? 
Could his spirit speak, it would be but to repeat to 
\u the language of his Redeemer— u blessed are 

.PEACEMAKERS, FOR THEY SHALL BE CALLED THE 

cH \en of god.” Like him make yourselves wor- 
tfp 0 \e hope, and heirs of the promise. Set before 
youi e >\ the gi 01 q 0US nature of the object, at which 
you aim \jYb so lute failure is impossible, because 

»o g m 9 

your purposes concur with all the suggestions of rea¬ 
son; all the indiccitions of nature; all the testimony 
of history; and all the promises of religion. They 
are pure ; elevated ; divine. Your end is the honour 
and happiness of your race. Your means are the 
advancement of the moral and intellectual character 
of man. 

What though the image you assail, be great; and 
the form thereof terrible ; and its brightness, daz¬ 
zling ? What though its head be of brass, and its 
arms and legs and body of iron ? Its feet are but 
clay. The stone, which is cut out of the mountain 
without hands, shall dash it in pieces ; and shall, 
itself, become a great mountain, and cover the whole 
earth. 










































